Where Paradise Is Realized
by the-lionness
Summary: A look into Yukari's life in the years after her and George's parting and before her and Hiroyuki's engagement. Y/H Y/G


**Where Paradise Is Realized**

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 **Pairings:** Yukari/Hiroyuki + Yukari/George

 **Rating:** T

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A lucid dream.

When Yukari thinks back on being eighteen and the whirlwind her life turned into when she became Paradise Kiss' model, that's what it felt like: a surreal dream she had had with eyes wide open. It had used every drop her imagination possessed up until that point, which was why the highs had felt the way that they had had, and the lows had hurt more than anything. But she had weathered it all and grown up a little in the process, and now was bestowed with a room full of color.

At least, that's what she had thought as she stepped into the space and ran her fingers over every seam, button, and zipper. But by the time she had walked the distance back to her place and pressed an ice-cold washcloth to her tear-streaked face, her thinking had changed.

The storage room was the pinnacle of a dream—hers and George's. His clothes had been what brought them together. It was the reason they had loved each other—in that earnest, selfish, push-and-pull way teenagers loved when they did it the first time. They had reached their climax with her believing that she was only his toy, to play dress up with in the morning, and to fuck when the sun went down. But it turned out that in the end, he had believed her worthier than all of that.

She was the one with whom he saw his dreams realized. After all, she was the first one who gazed at his clothes and was pulled in totally and completely, and the one who had brought them to life for everyone to see. And now that he was leaving them behind, she was the only one he saw fit to have them.

Yukari went to sleep determined to pursue her dreams strongly, not just for her, but for George too. Even though she had just found her own happiness and purpose, she would run towards it with no hesitation. Even if it took an eternity for their paths to cross, when she and George met again, she would show him that they had both been right and they were able to fully live their dreams.

* * *

Kozue, sharp-tongued and snarky as ever, proved to be as good as her word. Yukari's first year of work sent her to one audition or gig or casting after the other. Modeling, the dream she had found, quickly became more firmly rooted in reality. Not on purpose, but it was hard to not see how the things she did in front of a camera—a head tilt here, a smile or seductive glance there—led her to the things she wanted: independence, growth. If there was any fantasy to be found, it was in the starry-eyed praise Miwako so freely gave her whenever she brought a proof from a shoot to the brunches they arranged. The words her friend gave her were always well-received although Miwako was herself became a dream personified with her round stomach and Arashi's engagement ring sparkling on her finger.

* * *

She was 21 when she realized that her feelings for George had changed. Simmered. There was still the desire to live her dreams and a warm, fluttery feeling she got whenever she visited the storage unit, now located a half-hour walk from her new apartment, and traded one ParaKiss dress for another. But gone was the feeling, the little bit of yearning, she felt when she imagined him standing in wait for her at the end of her walk across the runway.

 _"Well, Caroline, that makes sense,"_ Mikako had said to her over the bento boxes her assistant had left them. _"It's been a couple of years since you and everyone heard from him. You couldn't expect to feel the same type of love you felt for him after so long."_

Yukari's chuckled. _"It's a little funny to hear that from you, Mikako."_ She chewed her onigiri slowly and waited a bit to answer the designer's curious gaze. _"Miwako told me you and Tsutomu were still in love after you came back from London."_

Mikako's gaze turned the life-sized statue of her mascot. _"That's true."_ They went back to eating their lunch and it was some moments before the petite woman spoke again. _"Tsutomu and I…we never had the same dream, but we always held each other's hand and walked towards making our two dreams a reality together. For me, there can be no paradise without him because seeing him live his dreams helps me live my own._

 _"Maybe that's what you're missing. Someone to see you live out your dreams with. After all, why wait for someone from the past to come back and see that you've lived your dreams, especially when they're pursuing their own without you?"_

Yukari's thoughts about Mikako's words and the conclusions she came to were probably the reasons why the relationships she had pursued over the next couple of years had been a bit silly. The first had been the male model from Happy Berry's photo shoot a few weeks later. It had been sparked by quiet, flirty jokes made between takes that turned into drinks afterward and ended with them in her bed. And then when that was done six months later, it was the photographer from a sportswear shoot with a neck tattoo she hadn't been able to piece together. And then after that, it was a guy who considered himself an actor/model/"influencer" when he was a really, in Arashi's words, "a chav and a bloody wanker." No designers, but men who wooed her into spending time with them and stared like they completely understood her thoughts and feelings and dreams until something happened and she realized they were only pretending to aspire to be like her. The only thing that seemed constant was her re-visiting the storage unit and running her fingers over those dresses.

She turned 25 and swore off casual, half-assed relationships.

She failed to book a show for an international designer.

She learned from Miwako whose most recent a Facebook exchange with Isabella that she and George were in America now—New York specifically, which was like a dream and made George's eyes twinkle in a way Paris hadn't.

She put the dresses in clear plastic garment bags over a series of weekends, right before winter came.

And then came Tokumori.

It was really a chance meeting. The day they had met again was the same day as a winter storm had threatened to hit the city. The meeting between, she, Kozue and representatives with shampoo brand, a contract negotiation, had ended abruptly to give everyone a chance to safely get home. She had just happened to go barreling out of her elevator at the same time he had calmly, smoothly, stepped out of his.

They didn't look as young as they had in school, but she had immediately recognized him. His cheeks had filled out a bit and his body was a bit broader, but he still had the same fine details she remembered: same smooth skin, dark hair, and short fringe of eyelashes.

They exchanged words until a security guard informed them that the storm had worsened and the building was being vacated. And then they were outside with the first fat flakes falling down like rain. Her eyes, squeezed into slits, could only see the back of his head amongst the flurry of snow as they ran with clasped hands towards his apartment.

 _"You've gotten a bit more forward in the last few years, Tokumouri,"_ she had teased him as they took off their shoes and removed their coats in front of his apartment door. _"Inviting me to your place like this."_

 _He responded to her ribbing with a small smile. "I'm sure the cabs have shut down now, and it wouldn't be right to have you weather the storm."_

 _"A likely story."_

He had pushed his wet bangs away from his forehead and held his coat by its hood, which gave her time to drink in the way his navy-blue suit fit across his shoulders. She must have been a little too caught up because his chuckle made her jump a little. _"Trust me. I would be a bit more smooth if I were to ask you over for something like that."_

That was the first way she learned the quiet, clinical air he had had when they were students had warmed. Inside his place, which smelled like him, she watched the way he smiled as he relayed his life in college and then grad school. Her eyes looked over the rim of the bracing cup of hot water and lemon as he talked about his residency and the children he had connected with during his residency.

Maybe she herself had been charming and witty enough to warrant him asking her to join him for dinner when the snowfall seemed to mitigate. By the time they had found the number for a pizza delivery spot and she was licking her lips free of grease, she had felt the stirring of butterflies.

He had been very smooth when he had asked for her number. Yukari had barely waited for her cab to pull away as she called Miwako and laughter bubbled from her as her friend squealed loud enough to wake up her sleeping toddler.

Hiroyuki Tokumori simply fit in her world without the theatrics George had. Not to say that he was plain, but his presence came with an air of confidence that was always seen but wouldn't break if wasn't acknowledged constantly. Yukari came to appreciate the way he was different from everyone else around her, even Miwako and Arashi. The way he placed his the shoes by the door when he entered her apartment. The faint smell of his cologne as he settled unto her couch. His low voice and the way he said her first name at her insistence. The touch of his fingers moving an errant strand of hair behind her ear. She had looked over herself in his bathroom mirror the morning after she had stayed over and a cheesy smile lit her face as she remembered the way he had wrapped her leg around his hip and set the pace their bodies had met over and over again.

Still, she wasn't able to ignore her thoughts about George completely. Every so often, when she missed out on something—another chance to go international, a spot in a show that had gladly taken her the year or two before—she thought about him. The fact that Isabella's messages to Miwako had turned over for the better and shared their friend's elation at them both joining a fashion house, in turn frustrated her. Not because she was jealous or she felt the need to compete, but because she felt like he wasn't as happy as Isabella was at having to take one more step towards his dreams. Maybe she worried about if he would have the same momentum she had had at the onset of his career. After all, time was getting less and less on their side.

Or maybe that was just her, projecting. Because in the days after her and Miwako talking, she came to realize that the dream that had fueled her since she was her senior year was beginning to come to an end.

* * *

She had been on the phone with Kozue for almost an hour, frustrated. At the fact all the younger girls in the agency had all worked that season's fashion week, while she hadn't. At the fact that despite her hopes, her absolutely last-ditch effort for overseas work hadn't panned out. And at Kozue's own, repeated explanations. Her agent had brought the conversation to a crescendo: _"Yukari, you've been in the industry long enough to know what these others girls don't. Some days you are hot—and you have been hot, even when someone came in, and they were fresh or young or whatever the fuck else. And then some days—or seasons—you're not._

 _"And I know it's frustrating, but we're getting nowhere at this point. Let's give ourselves a break here, come back on Monday, and talk about what's going to work for you moving forward. Ok?"_

It had been the patient tone of her words, so different from the sarcasm and dryness that came with their interactions that had made Yukari so worried. Hiro had found her in the dark of her apartment living room with tears in her eyes. And his furrowed brow and question of _"What's wrong?"_ sent her into a tailspin: her career—the reality that existed within her dream—was over. It wasn't fair. How could she be stopping before she had truly started? She was only 26. She still had so much to _do_ and _achieve_ before she was done.

She had no idea when she had brought up George, but once she had uttered his name, it had been hard to stop. What he had been to her all those years ago, their shared passions…Miwako's conversations with Isabella and her feelings about his journey, those supposed setbacks and triumphs. It had taken her physically covering her mouth to keep from going on and on, but by the time she was done, she found it hard to look at Hiro.

She stopped pacing around and abruptly fell back unto the couch. She kept space between them and neatly folded her hands in her lap, her gaze pointedly staring at the lines running across her palms.

He was silent at first. But then, quietly: _"Is knowing that you and…your ex…are still living a dream together so important to you? Or…_ _for_ _him?"_

 _"_ … _I guess…"_

 _"_ … _Is it because you think that everything you've achieved even after that time is because of him?"_

 _"No._ _N_ _o—my achievements are mine. I know that."_ Yukari felt a knot tightening in her stomach. _"Everything I've done since him is for me."_ She glanced to the view outside her window at all the streetlights twinkling outside. _"…You wouldn't understand."_

 _"I_ _do_ _understand. I guess I'm just…worried. Because the way you spoke about him just now… You haven't spoken to him in years and you say you've moved on—but just now. It just sounds like, if he were to come back to Japan—to you—you would go to him."_

Color rushed to her cheeks, but she didn't know if they were out of anger or embarrassment. Part of her worried that regardless if they were one or the other, it meant that there was truth in Hiro's words. She hated the thought so much. To know that despite herself, she was still in love with George.

She couldn't explain the ways what he had said was wrong. So, she didn't even try.

 _"_ … _I tell you that I'm worried about my career, that no one wants me anymore. And you're worried about my feelings for my high school boyfriend?"_ A pause. _"I need some air."_

She slipped on her coat and shoes and walked out of her apartment. It was winter and she ignored the cold air numbing her ears as she took in the city at night. Hiroyuki called out to her and then, judging by the sound of movement behind her, ran to catch up to her purposeful strides. Neither of them spoke as she came across the familiar neon-lit sign for the storage units, and it was probably for that reason he was able to follow her.

They stared at the garments, boxes of bags, hats, and shoes, and strings of crystals that hung from the ceiling in silence.

 _"_ … _I think the only George and I had in common was our drive to find and pursue our passion. And I think where we became different was that even though I had found my passion after him, I was able to…fully live out my dream before him. I know that me saying the things I said the way I said them makes it seem like I still pine for him, but I don't. I just…want him to know it's fully possible for him to feel the way I've felt for so long. And I guess I feel like, after he finds it, he can stay that way forever. That staying like that way is the right choice._

 _"But maybe I'm just projecting because I want to stay that way forever."_

 _"I know how that feels,"_ Hiro began, _"because, in a way, that's what you are to me."_ He smiled gently at her surprised glance. _"I found my dream after you, but I found it because of you._

 _"You came alive when you started modeling senior year. And every time I saw you, you just seemed to glow. Like a flame, this amazing flame that burned my entire world up to that point down. And in colors I don't think I ever saw before,"_ he stared out into the room once more, _"and hadn't since that time. …Not until we met again."_

 _"You see yourself as like-minded with this guy, but for me, you stand in a league of your own. In a dream of your own. Even if the fashion world ignores it, or he never sees it himself. I can see it."_ He hugged her close to him. _"I love that maybe I'll always get to see it."_

And it was in that moment Yukari realized that she was in love with Hiroyuki—a straightforward, wholesome, and understanding type of love that needed neither push nor pull—and that she would marry him. She seemed to find that the idea fit her as well as anything else she had worn, if not a little better.

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 _A/N: Thank you for reading._


End file.
